


big god (big enough to hold your love)

by Sangrylah



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, I wrote this almost a year ago and forgot to post it, Introspection, Inukashi is a good parent, Inukashi is not gendered in this os, i still like it very much, kind of, mentions of canonical past violence, nezushi if you squint (but not very hard), oh! spoilers, or is iiiiiit? ;), since it's a future!fic and all that, the nezushi is not the point tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangrylah/pseuds/Sangrylah
Summary: Shion is going on an Adventure! Weeeeeeh!
Relationships: Inukashi & Shion (No. 6)
Kudos: 4





	big god (big enough to hold your love)

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to my friends and betas, vivific and ariani lee ♥  
> Quick note/reminder: _shion_ means _aster_ in japanese, and _nezumi_ means _rat_.

It is a nice walk to Inu’s hotel.

The road is well-maintained, broad and clear. No one else but him.

The vegetation is poor yet better. Modest bushes, sparse flowers and lone trees growing stubbornly on the dry yellow sand, determined to splay their greenness on it – determined, like the people who used to live here – to fight the wasteland and _win._

The air is crisp. The sky is blue. The breeze nips at his nose, his ears, his fingers, his lungs. He crosses the path of a few people, sometimes, most of whom smile and nod politely at him. Different. An elderly couple. A man. Parents and their children. Siblings. A mother with her daughter. No lone parent with a child would have travelled that far with a smile on their face and a jump in her step, when he lived here. When he lived here, no lone parents would have let their kid run ahead of them chasing butterflies. There wasn’t any butterfly to chase, when he lived here.

Time, as people, passes; things, as people, change.

His steps are marked by the sway of his bag, the weight of it, light and heavy, against his thigh, calming. One is never lost if one knows one’s destination.

It is a nice walk to Inu’s hotel, and it is a nice day, and it is a nice part of the world.

  
  


A dog is sitting on the tracks. Long-ish hair, fluffy tail, sharp eyes. The dog’s tongue lolls out happily in between sharp teeth. He greets them. The dog barks, circles his legs and starts walking.

He trails a hand from the top of their soft head to the middle of their strong back and focuses on the powerful rolls of muscles under the skin and the healthy layer of fat, on the feeling of every single hair caressing his hand, his skin, his nerves.

It is a nice walk to Inu’s hotel, especially when you have company.

  
  


A symphony of woofs heralds his arrival. He was awaited. A flurry of furry bodies assaults him. He gets pushed on the ground, pawed at, licked, pinched, snuggled.

He closes his eyes and relaxes into it. The dogs chuff at his face and scratch him. They sniff at his bag, at his hair, at his crotch, at his feet. They smell strongly in a not entirely pleasant way.

Living beings, he remembers. Living beings have smells and warmth. It gets hot, under the warmth of the sun and the warmth of life, but it does not last long.

“Well, look what the dog dragged in.”

The dogs scatter, excitedly reporting their findings to their human. He gets up, doesn’t bother to dust himself.

“Hello, Inu.”

“Hello, Big Shion.”

  
  


He brings offerings. Apple pie, cherry cake, donuts. Little Shion stares at them with the hungry awe of the one who knows how the dough will crackle under his teeth, knows how the cherries will melt and sluice in his mouth, knows how the tartness of the donut will linger on his palate for hours.

Inu, however, is a dutiful parent, if not the most conventional one, and bargains half a donut for a plateful. Little Shion can have a full donut if he eats all of his greens today.

They sit outside at the cheap garden table. He chooses his favorite out of the haphazard collection of plastic and wooden chairs and gently blows on the frankly dreadful cup of tea Inu made him. Time and parenthood change everything, but tea brewing ability.

It is not even noon yet. The sky is very blue, and the air nips at his lungs when he breathes in deep.

They watch Little Shion run havoc on the yard and the dogs, ever vigilant, take turns to keep an eye on him. He knows all of them by name, huff, bark and scent. Inu is a hands-off parent. There isn’t a safer child in the entire world.

“So.”

“So?”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

“I would never, Inu.”

“Hmm.”

“Really.”

“I know, okay, I know? You’re too dumb for that.”

Shion laughs, and Inu laughs, and they drink a bit of their tea.

“Fucking shit, that’s terrible.”

“Yes. Yes, it is. I hope you don’t make Shion drink this.”

“Bah! As if I could make this child do anything!” Inu catches Shion’s look. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s your fault!”

“It’s my fault for a lot of things…”

Good, bad, good and bad – Shion did it all. He doesn’t like to think about it, but someone has to.

Inu’s voice, unsure as Shion hasn’t heard it for years, rises. “I. Just. For what it’s worth. And I know it’s worth shit, okay? But… Thank you. For giving me him.” Pause. Then, tenderly: “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing half of the time but I. I like it. I like him. So… thanks. There!”

They drink more of their horrible, horrible tea.

“He’s the first one, you know,” says Shion suddenly.

“Hm?”

“The first child of the new era. Post-No6. The first child of Elyurias, in a way.”

“Stop with your bullshit, airhead. He’s just my kid, is all. You really need to stop overthinking everything.”

“Aaaah, maybe. That’s why I’m doing this, you know.”

First times are always scary, but this first time does not fill him with dread. It infuses his bones from the tip of his toes to the top of his soul with amber-like sparks of warmth.

“It’s time I stop thinking.”

There. First time. Done and over with. Make space for the next time, for all the other times.

“So you’re leaving then,” says Inu. “I was right.”

“Yeah… Yeah. Yeah, I’m leaving.”

“I’m guessing that Karan knows and approves?”

“The cherry cakes betrayed me?”

“Yeah. They didn’t steal them only because you sing for them. And the belly rubs.”

Little Shion lays down on the ground and closes his eyes. His fingertips touch long matted fur and he starts playing with it distractedly. It lasts for a moment, then the boy rolls onto his side and starts whining at Blackie. The dog rumbles a big great sigh and raises his left paws as if to offer a hug. The child scrambles on his hands and knees and lunges at the offered furry belly. He shoves his head into Blackie’s ruff and his brother starts to lick whatever is in reach – hair, cheek, neck, a small shoulder – with slow, lazy licks.

They’re asleep in twenty-seven seconds.

This is peace. Twenty plus dogs splayed like a scarf all over the place, dozing head to tail amidst children toys, cheap garden furniture and sharp-edged cement pieces. This is the peace they fought for.

This is No6’s graveyard. This is peacefulness. This is victory.

“I…” He inhales a great breath, fills his lungs with prickly air until he’s ready to burst, so happy it hurts. “I think it’s time.”

“You told him you’d stay.”

“I stayed. I stayed ten years and now I don’t want to stay anymore. I’m going.”

Everything is quiet here. Inu does not live far from town, mostly because Little Shion needs reliable medical care and friends his own age, friends who don’t rely on body scents to communicate, but it feels like they’re at the end of the world.

“I always thought you wouldn’t wait for him like a good boy”, Inu says smugly, curled up in a bright orange chair in a way that isn’t fully human.

“I think it’s time,” repeats Shion. “I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Why now?”

“I have three students. Did I tell you about them?”

“No.”

“They’re not really students, they’re… I don’t know, apprentices, maybe. They follow me and ask questions and learn from me. From my experiences. From… from my life. My mistakes. I- They- They ask a lot of questions, Inu. They ask so many questions and I don’t have the answers.”

“You never had any answers, airhead. That’s why we made everything go _boom_.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s… One of the girls, Myrthid, got into a row with Bryant. She was so passionate, Inu, so… so _fierce_. She has an idea, and a plan, and she is going to do it. Whatever it takes. I was in my office, preparing a meeting about the funding for I don’t even remember what, like I do every day of every week, and I watched this young person argue to hell and back for what she believes in and, and I saw myself. I saw myself, and Nezumi, and how we were. And I felt _old_.

“It’s been ten years. I didn’t realize until recently but. I waited for ten years. I waited for a third of the life expectancy in the West Block. A third! And when I heard them argue I realized… I realized that I wasn’t waiting for him to come back. I was waiting for the moment when I could _go_. Me. I looked at my students and I saw that moment. Ten years is nothing to rebuild, but it’s a lot in human years. I’m out of touch with the actuality of the world I try to help build.

“These kids, they have ideas I’ve never thought of, they see possibilities I’ve never even noticed. They’re the children of this city. It should be theirs. They’re ready.” He laughs at himself. “They’re more than ready. They’re more ready than any of us was, and look what we did.” He shakes his head.“They’ll do just fine. They’re the future.”

He drinks more tea. He can’t taste anything anymore, just a black burnt void between his tongue and his teeth, and liquid warmth slowly infusing his bones.

“So it’s time. It’s my moment. I worked for No6 and then I worked for this. It’s time I work for myself.”

“Nezumi used to say he was a drifter and you were a stayer.”

“Nezumi’s smart, but he’s not all-knowing. And he was sixteen.”

“So he was wrong?”

“No. But he wasn’t entirely right either. I am a ‘stayer’. I put down roots and I can’t cut them or tear them off of me. I can’t, I don’t want to, and I won’t. But I don’t need to. I’m not a stayer because I need to physically stay in one place I’m a stayer because I need memories to go back to. I need an anchor. I need… I need a home. Just a home. And what Nezumi never understood either is that I have a home. I even have two! Or,” he adds shyly, “three, maybe?”

“… Three.”

Shion smiles without looking at his friend. “I have _three_ homes. I can come and go as I please and I will. I’ll go. And I’ll come back. And then I’ll leave again, probably, but I will always come back.”

“Always?”

Promises are words, precious words, and should be treated with care. Nezumi was sixteen, but he wasn’t stupid and some of his lessons had merit. They’re not sixteen anymore; they have long since passed the age of making promises they cannot keep. Which is why waiting for Nezumi was always stupid and doomed to heartbreak.

Shion sips some of the dreadful tea they always drink together even if it made them gag the first times, and promises.

“Always, Inu.”

“Alright.”

The vegetation is meager, yet better than it used to be. A spattering of bushes, flowers and trees growing stubborn on the dry yellow sand, determined to win against the wasteland, just like Nezumi and him were determined to destroy everything and each other. Nothing to see here. Nothing to hinder the eye, here. No building, no skyscraper, no Moondrop – nothing. Nothing to break the flatness, the monotony, the sheer _space_ of it all.

Nothing to protect you from the realization that you are very small and everything else is very great.

And if you are so very small what does it matter what you do? What does it matter that you are the head of the Council, that you have fancy titles, and a comfortable bed if you are, at scale, nothing but a speck of dust?

“So,” says Inu after another sip, “you’re leaving. Tomorrow?”

“Yes. If I may abuse of your hospitality.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll sleep outside. It would only be the first time. I don’t really know where I am going, Inu.”

“Never stopped you before.”

Shion laughs. “No, it never has, you’re right. I never knew where I was going with Nezumi and I dived into him head first without question.”

Inu snorts. “Without question? Please.”

Shion laughs. Again. He laughs a lot more since he decided to leave everything behind.

Maybe Nezumi is right, in a way. People are burdens. Shion will happily carry some burdens everywhere with him, but it does not mean he has to carry all of them. He is not Atlas. Just Shion. A flower. Just a pampered airhead from the glorious horrid No6 who killed people and failed to save others. He does not have to carry burdens, and he cannot anyway. A flower can only endure if it isn’t crushed under rocks.

“I want to see the world. I want… I want to find him, of course. But mostly, I want to find me. I want to find myself again. I want to learn who I am. I want to learn who I’ve become. I want to see the other city-states, and I want to know what I will do when I am hungry and sad, and I want to know what will make me smile, and I want…” He shakes his head at the universe. “I want so many things, Inu. I want so much. I _want_.”

“You sound like Little Shion. ‘I want I want I want’. You never actually grew up. Ten years, my ass.”

Shion shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it? You all gave me what I wanted.”

It still aches, sometimes, like a tooth about to fall that you don’t want to rush yet can’t help pushing with your tongue. A sweet ache, maybe. Their bloods on the walls and their lives splattered on the future. Threats and hurts and cruelty to birth something new.

“Except him,” Inu says.

Shion shakes his head. “No. No, he did.”

“He left. Don’t tell me you wanted him to.”

“Oh, no. I begged him not to go. I cried and told him a world without him had no meaning. I was sincere, too. But… The most important thing to me, after changing No6, was meeting him as an equal. And. In a way, I think he did, at the end. You don’t hurt someone like he hurt me if you don’t think they can take it. And I did! He ripped my heart out but it grew back. I could do it and I did. I’m glad to know that. He always showed me pieces of me I didn’t know I had…”

Inu looks at him, unimpressed. “You’re still as weird as ever.”

Shion smiles. “Yes. Maybe I haven’t changed that much, when it comes down to it. I told him once that I was proud to know these things. Hunger, pain fear, anger, joy, tears. I know, I sound like an asshole. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I didn’t know any of that in Chronos. I would never have discovered who I was if… if all of this, and Nezumi, didn’t happen. And I still… I want to feel these things again. I want to feel alive. I want to feel human.”

It is new, too. Or it feels like it is. He used to want so much. He used to be young and full of wants. He wanted to find a third solution, he wanted to convince Nezumi, he wanted to take care of everyone, he wanted to feed those hungry children and wanted to teach them their letters and he wanted to reorganize all of the books and he wanted to make a serum from his blood and he wanted Nezumi to perform Macbeth for him and he wanted to save everyone and he wanted to name the mice and he wanted to protect Nezumi and he wanted to use a bucket to clean the dogs and he wanted to be an equal and he wanted to save Safu and he wanted Nezumi to open his ribcage with a scalpel and to pull back the bloody flap of his own being to let Shion peer into the gory red entrails underneath and learn everything about him and he wanted Nezumi’s respect and his affection and his time and —

He wanted. Absolutely, greedily.

But that was a long time ago.

Present-day Shion _wishes_ a lot more and wants a lot less. Even what he wanted was less. Decent funding. More sleep. To go see his mother. Decent compromises. Haythan food for dinner. To visit Inu and Shion, thrice a year maybe, when he felt energetic enough to travel to them. The greedy monster inside of him has been quiet and small. So much lesser.

It is part of growing up, learning to control to the monster and to negotiate, but Shion feels like he was doing something wrong. He doesn’t think this monster should ever be quiet or silent. He doesn’t think it is better to not want things. In a world where a ragtag bunch of half-starved idiots changed the world just because they wanted it badly enough, _wanting_ has to count for something.

Maybe, he thinks, it counts for everything.

Shion is not leaving to find Nezumi. Shion is living to find a reason to live and a way to do it. It used to be Nezumi, but it isn’t anymore. Maybe he will find him. Maybe they will cross paths and not see each other. Maybe Nezumi will find him and discard him. Maybe they’ll cross paths and avoid each other. Maybe they’ll find each other. Maybe they’ll stumble against each other. Maybe Nezumi’s dead. Maybe all of the above.

But Shion grew up, and he is not waiting for his storm this time. Shion broke No6 and built it back up; he will create his own damn storm, thank you very much.

One day, Shion woke and realized that he didn’t want anything nor did he wish for everything. But there was no window to throw open this time, no storm, no child pinning him to the bed with a spoon to his throat. Nothing.

One day, Shion woke up and realized that he’d fallen dead again, and somewhere, something quiet and humongous and diminished and angry went _**No** _ _._

The feeble little monster inside him wriggles. ‘Yes,’ it thinks, starting to get hungry, ‘yes!’

Good. Shion lets it ramble and rumble in his belly. Shion wants it – _them_ – to be _starving_. He wants to want so much that nothing will satiate him. He wants to once more feel the hunger that swallowed No6 gnaw at his bones, and he wants to unleash it at the world.

(And maybe, in a quiet, secret part of his mind, small and silent as the monster once was, he hopes to find someone, a boy with mercury eyes and smiles like so many knives, whose hunger is even greater, who can never be swallowed for you cannot eat stardust, you cannot devour stars.)

You see, Shion is not ready to be replete. He, after all, has always been a pampered, capricious child. The favored son of No6, that beautifully crafted monster.

Well, this child is having a tantrum, and he wants his favorite toy _back_.

_You need a big god  
Big enough to hold your love  
You need a big god  
Big enough to fill you up_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Congrats for reaching the end! I really hope you liked it, because there's some of my best writing in this text, and i love the general atmosphere.  
> Please leave a comment if you can, thank you! Stay safe, lovelies!


End file.
